


Jumpers and Ties [Johnlock/Mystrade]

by Crowleys_bitch1967



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-01-15 21:26:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18507397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowleys_bitch1967/pseuds/Crowleys_bitch1967
Summary: Sherlock was alone, so alone. His best friend had left and gotten re engaged; but he had Rosie. After a messy argument leading with Greg taking Rosie from John’ care and making Sherlock her legal guardian; John seems less put out about the idea than you would think. After an unexpected new turn, what will happen to these two men.Mycroft was undoubtedly in love with a certain DI. The DI was smitten about the Elder Holmes. After a drunken mistake, how will things play out for the two.





	1. John and Sherlock

John took Sarah’ hands, kissing the cold skin softly as they ambled through Hyde Park on a fine November evening. Sarah chuckles and squeezes his hand in thanks.

John admires her through the crisp sunset - pale skin glowing and hair making a halo around her face. He sighs.

“Sarah, my love?” He calls as she walks ahead to pat the head of a small dog. She spins gracefully - her hair spreading out behind her beautifully.

“Yes, darling!” She calls back brightly - waiting for him to catch up with her. He sits her down on the bench and sighs, a cloud of condensation billowing from both their mouths in the cold weather. John smiles - a charming, somehow contagious smile.

John kneels down on one knee, “Sarah, will you marry me?” He says breathlessly, his nerves catching him out.

Sarah looks at him, staring at him with wide eyes, “John are you sure. It’s only been two years since Mary died. Are you ready for that commitment again? Especially after Rosie was taken to live with Sherlock...”

John sighs, thinking back to that day like it was poison.

**Flashback**

John slushed his whiskey in its glass, staring at it vacantly.

_Mary. Mary. Mary._

That’s all that ever went round his mind anymore. The faint cry on the baby monitor his only source of sound. White noise drove him insane.

The loud banging of the door awoke him from his daze. He stood up, stumbling from misuse of his legs and made his way to the door, opening it.

He was met with two familiar faces. Greg Lestrade and Sherlock Holmes.

“John Hamish Watson. Under the authority of childcare and safety. William Sherlock Scott Holmes will now become Rosamund-Mary Watson’ legal guardian for the foreseeable future.” Greg looks up at him, eyes sullen and filled with sorrow, “I’m sorry, John. Step aside.”

John’ whole world came crashing down, his heart splitting in two. he sobbed violently as Sherlock collected his daughter’s things and picked the one year old up, stroking her cheek with his large hand and sighing. “I’m sorry, John...” he mumbles sadly.

“Get out of my house!” The smaller man screams - regretting instantly as Rosie began to frightfully cry into Sherlock’ shoulder. Sherlock looked at him angrily and storms out, cooing softly at the young girl.

John turned to look at Greg, helpless and broken. Greg stares back, unable to comfort his friend because he knew it was the only thing saving the girl from her fathers raging anger problems.

His phone buzzed and he takes it out, inflating slightly at the text:

**Thank you, Gregory. For helping my brother. I’m now inclined to invite you to Dinner. Let’s say six. A car will be waiting. MH**

Greg smiles, knowing exactly who the text was from at the use of his fully first name.

-

John looks at Sarah, “as ready as i’ll ever be.”

Sarah smiles and kisses him, “then yes, John Watson. I will marry you.” John brightens and picks her up, spinning her.

-

Sherlock sat at the table, watching Rosie paint with a absent look on his face. He reached out and cupped the girls cheek, sliding his thumb over her cheek gently, “so like your father.”

He sighs and gets up, telling Rosie not to touch anything she shouldn’t and not to make a mess before slipping into his bedroom and opening his wardrobe door.

Inside was filled with shirts of any dark colour, blazer jackets and a single jumper, bright and soft looking against the rest of the items. Sherlock took the jumper off it’s hanger and slipped off his blazer jacket, replacing it with the jumper. He tears up.

“J-John...” He sobs, the smell of John’ aftershave and a smell that could only be described as John filled his nose.

He closes his eyes, walks out and picks up the little girl, holding her close and going to sit down on the armchair, leaning back and letting the little girl curl against him, gripping the jumper. He smiles, this girl was doing what he did; finding comfort in the only remaining thing they had of John Watson’.

The doorbell rang and Sherlock’ heart raced. It was long, drawled out but soft, like someone knew putting too much pressure on it, would break it after Sherlock’ rampaging caused him to shoot it. He knew who by a mile off.

Sherlock leaps up, holding Rosie close and snapping at Ms. Hudson. He threw off the jumper and coughs, hiding it and putting Rosie down, checking himself in the mirror before opening the door.

He sighs, “John...”

“I’m not here to fight Sherlock. I came to see my daughter.”

It was at that moment Rosie came running over, staying tight against Sherlock’ side. She whimpers and makes grabby hands towards Sherlock, “papa. Up!” She demanded. Sherlock smiles and kneels down.

“There is a special word you’re missing, my love,” He whispers.

“Pwease.”

Sherlock picks her up, looking at John. He opens the door wider to reveal Rosie and turns around, mumbling, “come in.” John shuffles after him, following him up the stairs and looking around in shock.

The place was immaculate, par the kitchen which looked like a paint factory and set up experiments and it had ended badly. Sherlock offered John a tea, which he accepted and the detective put the kettle on the boil the water.

The consulting detective hums softly to Rosie a nursery rhyme and she giggles happily, “papa sing?” Sherlock blushes a great deal and looked at Rosie, telepathically cursing her.

He could never say no to that face. He began to sing softly, swaying slightly. He was singing a beautiful ballad version of ‘someone to love’ by Queen and John himself was captivated.

-

Sherlock lay a finally sleeping Rosie down and sat in his chair, staring at John.

John shuffles uncomfortably and smiles weakly. “You took to parenthood well Sherlock. She already knows her Ps and Q’s, and already calls you papa.”

He looks down, sullen to the idea that his daughter might grow up to the sheer memory of him, learning to see Sherlock as his family. See Molly and Ms. Hudson as family. He a distant memory.

He looks up, eyes darkened and emotionless. Sherlock sighs and puts down his tea, “why are you here, John? Shouldn’t you be off in some pub with a lass.”

He looks at John, eyes firm with the protectiveness of a father.

John sighs and lifts his head - his chin lifted, “I’m engaged. Sarah forced me to invite you and Rosie, and make you my best man.“

Sherlock swallows and looks away, “of course. Now if you excuse me, I have a case waiting.” He clears his throat and sits down; steepling his hands under his chin, legs crossed and eyes closed. “That’s a cue for you to leave, Mr Watson.” John sighs and kneels down, placing a tender kiss on Rosie’ forehead before leaving in a slight soldiers march.


	2. Mycroft and Greg

Mycroft looks at himself in the mirror, his blue tie making his eyes glow a more vibrant blue. He sighs and flattens down his blazer jacket, turning on his heel and making his way downstairs.

The doorbell went and Mycroft breathes out shakily, opening it to reveal DI Greg Lestrade. Greg had a large, handsome smile upon his face and it made Mycroft’ heart flutter.

“Hello Mr Holmes.” He was leant up against the wall, eyes gleaming brightly in the dusk light. Mycroft smiles back, letting the detective in.

“Dinner is almost ready, Gregory. Please follow me to the lounging area.” He takes Greg’ coat and hangs it up, walking into a room filled with comfortable looking chairs. Greg sits down and grins.

-

Mycroft sits back and chuckles, “god, I never knew you had such a great humour.” He sips his glass of wine - he had several and they where both definitely drunk.

Greg’ eyes watch him and he licks his dry lips. Greg raises an eyebrow and stands up, his confidence now heightened due to the large amount of alcohol he had consumed in the small amount of time. He climbs onto the taller mans lap and hooks his finger under Mycroft’ chin, his eyes searched the Politicians. Mycroft breathes shakily.

“Gregory...I...” he swallows and bites his lip. Greg smiles softly and leans closer, his lips grazing Mycroft’ softly. Mycroft gasps slightly and kisses him, his confidence now overflowing as he grips Greg tightly.

Greg groans and kisses back deeply, accidentally grinding slightly into Mycroft. Mycroft chokes slightly and takes his hands, intertwining them gently. He wraps Greg’ legs around his waist and stands up, still kissing him deeply. He carries him up the large stairs and kicks open his room. Greg pulls away slightly, panting and kisses down his pale neck; nipping and biting the skin until Mycroft moans shakily.

Greg grins, “found it.” He sucks the spot softly and jumps down, pushing the auburn onto his king size four poster bed and climbs over him.

-

Greg woke up, groaning softly. His head banging; hungover. He curls further into the warmth wrapped around him before realising and curses to himself. He and Mr Holmes had exchanged in _...ah shit._

The auburn stirs and his beautiful blue eyes mixed with Gregory’ - widening in horror as he realises the sheer intimacy of the situation. He blushes deep red when Greg grins and wraps his arms tightly around the elder Holmes.

“Hello, Mr Holmes....” his voice was rough and it send chills down Mycroft’ spine. He coughs and continues to stare at Greg’ eyes, his eyes dilated. Greg chuckles and kisses him softly, “I have to get to work. I’ll text you on my coffee break.” He stands up and stretches - his marked skin glowing in the morning dew sliming on the window. Mycroft admires him; astonished by his beauty.

He stands up as well and shuffles over to the still topless DI and wraps his long arms around around his waist, kissing his cheek. “You’re stunning,” He whispers and smiles gently. Greg leans back into him and smiles.

“Says the man with the milky skin and eyes so blue they could be mistaken for diamonds.” Mycroft blushes deeply.

“I never thought of you as a poet, Gregory.” He moves away and grabs a dressing gown, pulling it on and tightening it around his slim figure, brushing his hands through his auburn curls, “hungry?”

Greg brightens at the mention of food and puts on his watch, checking it, “I guess I have time for you.” He takes Mycroft’ hand and kisses it tenderly.

Mycroft tugs him out, “come on, Sap.” He chuckles and ambles down the stairs, letting go of Greg’ hand and jumps down the last six steps with ease.

Greg chuckles and shakes his head. “Child,” He mutters warmly and follows after him.

-

Greg leans against the door, looking at Mycroft, “I’ll see you later,” He whispers and tugs at his tie, kissing him deeply and nips his bottom lip. “Don’t forget whose you are.” He strokes the love Mark tenderly and smiles: before winking and moving away, getting into his car and driving away.

Mycroft covers his face and squeals like an in-pubescent teenage girl about their first crush. He chuckles and looks up, catching his reflection in the Rolls Royce Phantom that just pulled up, his marks visible; peppered around his neck. Marks of possession and marks of love.

He checks the time on his pocket watch and curses - realising that he was to meet his brother today. Anthea walks up to him and grins, “I have concealer.”

“Shut up!” He opens the door; closing it just after hearing Anthea begin giggling maniacally. She gets back in and and hands it to him, along with a sponge and some translucent powder.

-

After some bickering and Mycroft finally allowing Anthea to help him, they had covered the visible marks.

They pull up at his brothers flat and Mycroft smiles, spotting a little blond head watching the car with bright eyes. He gets out and knocks on the heavy door knocker.

Sherlock opens it and a small girl latches herself onto Mycroft’ leg, “unwle Mywoft!” She squeals happily and looks up at him.

Mycroft smiles brightly and picks her up, “hello Rosie love.” He chuckles and steps inside.

“Hello brother mine.” Sherlock grins, “good night, brother?” His eyes gleam mischievously, “How is Lestrade?”

“How?” He sighs. Sherlock chuckles and holds up the tie on his brother, “seen him wear this too often.” Mycroft sighs and chuckles... _oh Gregory_.

Rosie giggles and looks up at him, “Unwle Mywoft is in wove.”

Mycroft smiles, “yes, I guess so...”

-

The door to his office was made of tough, polished, dark wood, and someone was banging on it.

Mycroft sighs, “come in!” He bellows from his tall desk.

The door opens to reveal a disheveled Greg. He looks at Mycroft and sighs, “thank god.” He kneels down and kisses Mycroft. “I’m needy for you touch while I’m sober, my darling.”

Mycroft smirks and unbuttons his shirt, trailing his hands down his tan chest and growls, “so good.” He stand up and moves Greg into his chair. Greg groans and shuffles with need.

Mycroft unbuttons his trousers and pulls them down, along with his boxer briefs. Greg’ length leaked at the cold air hitting it and Mycroft bites his lip.

He teases the detective, trailing a finger up and down the length. Greg moans and grips the chair, “M-Mycroft please...” Mycroft chuckles and grips the member, licking the tip before taking it into his mouth. Greg gasps and arches his back, “fuck...!”

-

Greg falls back down, panting heavily, beads of sweat on his tan skin. He chuckles. “God.” Mycroft snorts and kisses his lovers nose softly and sits on his lap, wrapping his arms around his neck gently. Greg nuzzles his face in Mycroft’ shoulder.


	3. John and Sherlock

The day had come too quickly. Sherlock was pale with the thought of the only man he loved being taken from him for the second time. He sits on the bed in his tux and sobs into his hands.

“Why J-John? Why can’t you love me?” He mumbles brokenly. Ms Hudson shuffles in and hugs him, cooing to him softly.

“He will love you sweetheart. He will realise his true love has been right there; in front of his eyes.” She kisses his temple. “Come on, love. Let’s go.”

Sherlock stands up, coughing and pushing all emotion down and building a wall. The elder woman sighs and takes his hand.

-

Sherlock stands beside John, their shoulders brushing at points. Every point of contact was driving Sherlock insane. His gasping if air had got to the point he thought he would collapse.

John looks at him, “Sherlock, you look more nervous than me. Are you alright?”

Sherlock swallows and smiles softly, “guess I just want to make a lasting impression.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

John chuckles, “you’ll be fine, just be you; well, the nicer you.”

Sherlock looks down and blushes, this was how it was meant to be - him, John and Rosie. Not him, John, Rosie and Sarah. Sherlock looked at Ms. Hudson; who stared back at him with urging desperation.

“Tell him!” She mouthed frustratedly. Sherlock sighs and looks at his brother. When was it that Mycroft Holmes was happy before him, with his boyfriend holding him tight around the waist in a protective manner, stroking the officials waist lovingly. Mycroft looks at Sherlock and pulls out his phone, typing away rapidly.

Sherlock’ phone buzzed in his breast pocket. Sherlock gets it out and reads the text:

{Get on with it, brother dear. I have a bet with my dear Gregory over who will be the first to crack. Naturally, I called you.  
MH}

Sherlock sighs sadly and looks at his brother - who in turn stared back at him with a sour face Sherlock deduced was his remorseful face. He turns to John.

“John I-“ He was too late, the organ tunes in and Sherlock fell quiet, letting one silent tear fall heavily onto the church floor - he wipes away the trail with the back of his hand and lets Sarah and John to their own love bubble, sitting shakily beside Ms. Hudson and letting her take his hand.

-

Sherlock waited, and waited until that one chance he had to stop this whole ordeal.

“If anyone here objects to this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace.” Sherlock stood abruptly and the whole ceremony of people gasp.

“John,” He whispers, weak with desperation. “I love you, John,” he utters in a barely audible voice.

John’ tough facade melted away to reveal his soft interior, allowing everyone to see the John only Sherlock and Rosie has ever seen for long periods of time.

“Sherlock I-“ he pauses, looking at Sarah, who smiles back brightly, urging him on, “I love you too.”

Beside him, Ms. Hudson let out a small squeal, gently nudging the detective with her small hand. Sherlock stumbles weakly and almost falls face first onto the alter floor; instead, he crashes onto his knees. John catches him; preventing any further embarrassment for the detective and holds him tight. He sighs in relief.

“I have always loved you, John. It’s always been you,” he muttered into the smaller man’ stomach, hugging his waist tightly. John strokes his hair, running his calloused hand through the forest of silky dark curls.

“Let’s go outside and not do this in front of the entire ceremony.” He chuckles. A melodic, beautiful sound that only made Sherlock’ heart leap further. In one day, he had heard both the declaration of his love, and the laugh he so rarely treasured. He takes the warm, tough hand offered to him and is pulled out into the front of the church. “How long, Sherlock?”

Sherlock smiles, “our first meeting at Barts. Our hands brushed and I knew for certain I had fallen. What about you?”

“I suppose it’s always been there, battling with my conscience. But your birthday two and a half years ago, when you hugged me.” He smiles softly at the memory. Sherlock’ eyes wander over John’ facial features and he melts.

“John...I-I’d very much like to kiss you...” he blushes at how forward that sounded, but John just chuckles again and pulls the taller man down by his lapels, placing his lips softly against the other mans.

It wasn’t until they pulled back minutes later that they realised the cheering. They both look to see they whole congregation clapping and cheering, Sarah right at the front, clapping the most.

Sherlock blushes and hides his face in John’ shoulder, smiling against it. John chuckles and kisses the taller mans dark curls tenderly, winking at Sarah and picking up Rosie.

Rosie giggles, “dadda and papa Wove eachwover?” She asks in an adorable, small voice; big, bright blue eyes glimmering contently. Sherlock looks up at Rosie and John, smiling.

“Yes Rosie. Dadda and I love each other VERY much,” Sherlock declared, his look, matching Rosie’ as he stared at his new lover. John looks up with a small smile.

“Let’s go home, Sherlock...” Rosie yawns slightly and John smiles wider, adding, “...I think our little Minion needs a nap.” He takes Sherlock’ hand with his free one, the other supporting his daughter.

A dark windowed Rolls Royce Phantom pulls up. Sherlock grins and turns towards his brother, who winks and pulls Greg closer.

The new couple get in and cuddle Rosie between them.


End file.
